


Aero

by setissma



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setissma/pseuds/setissma
Summary: ...dragonriders of Pern x J2? Yeah, about that level of crackfic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think this makes sense without knowing the canon, as long as you are aware of the fundamental fact that dragons go into heat and basically make their riders go into heat too, but WHO KNOWS. PWP? Crackfic? Something?
> 
> A brief note on consent: warnings for, you know, in case you have not figured this out by now, telepathic link with dragons sex. Could definitely be considered dubcon if you looked at it in the right light. (But, uh, not as crazy as the actual books!)

Jensen's halfway through the line at dinner when his stomach drops out, his hands clenching involuntarily on the edges of his plate.

"You okay?" says Bell, rider of the biggest blue in their wing, shoving her shoulder up against his just as Jensen feels a wave of dizziness hit.

"Fine," he manages. "Just give me a second." The stomach flu would be the perfect end to a godawful day, but thirty seconds later, Jensen's head suddenly clears.

"Stop skipping lunch, Ackles," Bell says, laughing. 

Jensen's more than willing to write it off as low blood sugar, but the first bite of steak tastes off, and the second is awful. Even Jensen's apple pie doesn't taste right; it's a combination of too sweet and bitter that has him pushing his tray away.

"Not that hungry," Jensen says, when Bell nudges him again.

"You're flushed," she says, pressing her hand underneath his collar. "Running a fever."

"Probably something I ate," Jensen says, pushing back from the table. "I think I'm going to head back."

Jensen's almost to his quarters before he realizes that the low ache in his stomach doesn't _feel_ like food poisoning, but he's still too damn warm, and opening the window in his room does almost nothing to fix it. He's already most of the way through a manual on aerial maneuvers, and studying doesn't seem like the worst distraction, but Jensen only gets through three pages before he realizes that he's barely remembering the diagrams. The edges of his vision are sliding, but it stops when he blinks. Jensen's starting to wonder if a migraine is a possibility when someone knocks on the door.

"It's open," he says.

"Kristen said you're not feeling well," someone says, and when the door swings open, it's Jared, Jensen's wingleader, holding a vial and a pitcher of water.

Jensen feels himself lose the battle not to blush – Seraneth isn't the biggest bronze in the weyr, but he's close, and Jared's a year or two from being weyr leader and still bringing metaphorical chicken soup to the third year green riders in his wing.

"You didn't have to," Jensen manages, because Jared teaches two night classes on Wednesdays – Jensen's in the second section of Applied Wing Tactics, eight o'clock two nights a week, and thinking about the way Jared lectures with his hands and the way he laughs is enough to make Jensen's stomach flip over again for an entirely different reason – and he's probably going to be late.

"Don't be an idiot," Jared says, leaning up against Jensen's doorframe, and motions him over. "Stomach flu?"

"I'm fine," Jensen says, but when Jared slides his hands underneath Jensen's jaw to tilt his face up, he's so dizzy he can't stand, or something like it, because he's suddenly closer than he means to be and Jared's touch is too warm, uncomfortable enough that he has to duck away.

"Jensen, how old is Casserath?" Jared says, and Jensen blinks, at least reasonably sure he's misheard the question, because Jared never forgets details.

"Asleep," he says, feeling it out, because the familiar presence in the back of his mind has been gone since lunch, something Jensen should have _noticed_ , because it's out of the ordinary, and Jared's face softens.

"How _old_ ," Jared repeats, gently, and Jensen feels another rush of heat hit him when Jared pushes him backwards gently.

"Two, almost three -" Jensen says, confused, and then he realizes why Jared's asking a question when he already knows the answer.

"Oh," Jensen says, and abruptly, the heat under his skin becomes more familiar. He realizes that he's staring, that he's flushed all over, and when he sits down on the bed, it's difficult to ignore the fact that he's almost half-hard, his cock heavy and suddenly too sensitive. "She's going to –" Jensen can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"She'll wake up soon," Jared says, sitting down beside him on the bed. "It'll be better for you if you don't let her eat."

"For me?" Jensen says, stupidly, and Jared looks like he's going to laugh.

"The sex," Jared says.

"Oh," Jensen says, "right," and he can feel Jared watching him.

"You know," Jared says, after a long pause, "when you've been doing this a while, you figure out the stereotypes aren't worth the time it takes to list them."

"Stereotypes?" Jensen says, trying to ignore the flush sliding up the back of his neck.

"Browns pick laid back, blues are half thoughtful, half sense of humor, greens are –"

"Easy," Jensen supplies.

"I was going to say passionate," Jared says, grinning in a way that pushes Jensen further toward all the way hard. "And I said I wasn't listing. Because dragons pick _people_ , not types. I know that better than anyone."

"I've never," Jensen admits, awkwardly, because it's not something he wants Jared to know. He jumps at the hand against the back of his neck.

"Relax," Jared says. "You can't stop anyone from flying for her, but –" He smiles, low, an expression Jensen's not used to seeing on his face. "You've probably got an hour or two, so that's plenty of time to call someone back from patrol with a brown, or send someone away."

Jensen looks at him, not quite comprehending, and Jared rubs a thumb across the curve of his shoulder. "I'm saying, you can probably choose," he says. "Caniath's the biggest brown in the second, and Misha's a good guy, but Eliath can outfly most of our wing. If you want Kristen, I'll keep it quiet, keep the dragons from the second on that side of the weyr."

Jensen knows Misha, second in command of the second wing, and he knows Jared's right, that he's a good guy, that it wouldn't be so bad if Caniath caught Casserath, and Bell's sweet, funny, and he _likes_ her.

"I," Jensen says, "Kristen would be okay." He rubs his hands over his thighs, trying to get his pulse back under control, and counts the stripes on his wool blanket. He's on seventeen before he realizes that Jared hasn't said anything, and when he looks up, there's something different on Jared's face, another look Jensen's never seen before.

"You know what," Jared says, "don't worry about it, I got it," and claps a hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Bring a book down to my quarters, I'll tell anyone who's flying her to wait there."

Jared stands, easily enough that something sharp and electric runs down Jensen's spine, and smiles over his shoulder before he lets himself out. Jensen drains the glass of water Jared left on his dresser, pouring enough from the pitcher into a basin so he can splash his face, the back of his neck. Jensen's not sure what he needs, what's going to happen, but it's easy to follow Jared's advice. He settles on the tactical book, full of diagrams he doesn't quite have to focus on, and heads downstairs.

Jensen's been in Jared's rooms before, for meetings and the occasional dinner, but when he knocks, no one answers, and it's more than a little strange to let himself in to Jared's common room. There's a fire in the fireplace, low enough that it was probably set a few hours before, and Jensen catches a glimpse of dark green sheets through the door to Jared's bedroom. It's enough to make him blush, even though there's no one to see. Jensen settles in on one of the couches, pulling a blanket down off the back in an effort to feel a little less exposed, and tries to memorize diagrams until the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach gets too distracting and he has to tilt his head back, closing his eyes.

He hears the door swing open, expecting Kristen or Misha, or another of the brown riders, but it's Jared.

"Just me," he says, with a smile, and disappears into the bedroom; Jensen can hear him moving around, and it's almost comforting, if embarrassing when Jensen realizes he's tilting his hips up, thinking about pulling the blanket tight for something to press up against.

Casserath has never been slow to wake, and Jensen's used to feeling her thoughts push into his mind like a flipping a light bulb switch, there and then not. This time, it's different, slow enough that he knows it's going to be a while, but he still feels it when she slides from a deep sleep into a lighter one, with a push of desire that knocks Jensen's breath away for minute.

"She's not really asleep anymore," Jensen manages, and Jared comes out of the bedroom, undoing his cuffs, the row of tiny buttons at his collar.

"Good," Jared says, looking up at him, and then laughs. "And you're starting to feel it."

Jensen realizes he's stretched, arching, and blushes hard, but Jared sits down beside him, pushing Jensen toward the other end of the couch with a firm hand against the small of his back, a touch that Jensen somehow feels all over.

"You don't have to stay," Jensen says, a little desperately, because Jared's really too close, and then he realizes the fundamental problem with the situation.

"You said –" he manages, "that people would be waiting here." The feeling rushing through him this time isn't desire, it's something a lot more like fear. Jensen's not all that popular, not that used to people, but the thought that no one would _let_ their dragon fly isn't something he's ever thought about. He can feel the indecision slipping through the bond, the soft, rumbling reassurance that echoes back, even though she's not awake, but it's not enough. "Not even Kristen?"

Jared blinks at him for a second, then grins. "People only wait when they're not sure of the outcome, Jensen," he says. "No one's going to outfly a bronze."

"A bronze?" Jensen says, stupidly, and when Jared cups his face, he's not expecting it, not leaning into it until Casserath comes more awake and it happens anyway, until Jensen can't _think_.

"Yeah," Jared says, still grinning, "me," and kisses him, warm and sure, as Jensen's dragon opens her eyes and begins to spread her wings.

The first kiss is soft and easy, the kind of kiss Jensen's imagined when he's thought about kissing Jared, but it only takes a minute for it to spin into something else, possessive and close to bruising.

"Goddamn," Jared says, breathing hard, and Jensen only realize that Jared had his hands wrapped around his shoulders when Jared lets go.

Jensen's still reeling, half Jared and half the steady, pressing awareness of Casserath's mind pushing into his. He blinks once, and it's Jared's face, then again and suddenly, he's seeing through her eyes. He's used to boundaries, a separate other in his mind, but this is different, so far gone that he can't articulate it. Ordinarily, he knows her. Now, he _is_ her.

"I can talk you through this part," Jared murmurs, his mouth up against Jensen's jaw, "but I can't claim you until we catch you."

" _If_ you catch us," Jensen says, because Jensen's well aware of the fact that it's her choice, that she could outfly them all.

"When," Jared says, amused but matter of fact.

Jensen knows Jared's not very far under yet, that he won't be until Seraneth starts to fly, but Jensen's still startled when he stands and holds out his hands. Being upright seems unachievable, between Casserath in his mind and the way the room is spinning.

"We won't make it to the bedroom if we don't go now," Jared says, wrapping his palms around Jensen's wrists and pulling him up, and suddenly Jensen's in close, pressed against Jared's chest. He likes it, _wants_ it in a way that has him arching closer and pressing his hips against Jared's, but when Jared tightens his grip and tries to wrap an arm around him, something in the back of Jensen's mind protests and he finds himself pulling away, taking a step toward the bedroom.

"I'm fine," Jensen says, even though unsteady doesn't even begin to describe it, and takes another step back, putting more space between them.

"Greens," Jared says, grinning, and crosses the room, making Jensen move fast to keep Jared out of his personal space.

Jensen's trying and failing to focus on something, _anything_ past the simultaneous desire to push Jared away and keep him close, so when he backs into the bed, it's unexpected. He's suddenly aware of the fact that it would be easy for Jared to corner him, pushing in close and pinning him, but Jared looks at him for a long moment and steps to the side, kicking his boots underneath a chair, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Is she close?" Jared says, and for a moment, Jensen feels like he's cheating, pushing for information he shouldn't have, but then what's left of his logic wins out and he realizes that Jared's trying to help him.

"She's hungry," Jensen says, and even if _he_ knows enough to place the sensations flooding through him as desire, it's still an abstract concept to Casserath, somewhere between hunger and irritation, tangled with an overwhelming desire to take to the air.

When Jared looks back over his shoulder, Jensen flushes. He's leaning hard against the bedpost, unwilling to lie down in Jared's bed. When Jared starts in on the laces of his breeches, Jensen forces himself to look away, feeling like it's an invasion of privacy.

"She _thinks_ she's hungry," Jared says, a moment later, and before Jensen can jump, there's a firm set of hands on his shoulders, pulling him back down into the bed. "Let her bleed one of the cattle, she'll realize it's not what she's looking for."

Jared slides his hands down, undoing the buttons at Jensen's collar, and Jensen feels it when Jared presses a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. Casserath is urging him to pull away, but the part of Jensen that's just him, the part that's still nervous as hell, doesn't want to. When Jensen leans back against Jared and stops fighting the unsteady feeling along his spine, Jared smiles. It's the same one he uses when Jensen knows the right answer or pulls off a flawless turn in a thread fight, and something about it makes Jensen feel less afraid.

"You can stay under the blankets for now, but I _will_ tear your clothes off if they're still on when he catches her," Jared says, sounding a little rueful, and Jensen flushes when he realizes that it's not just abstract knowledge, that Jared's speaking from experience. Jensen pushes away the surge of jealousy – he's a _dragon rider_ , he knows better than to assume that this kind of sex means anything.

Jared's eyes go soft, unfocused, and it only takes Jensen a moment to figure out that he's talking to Seraneth. He misses Casserath, suddenly and sharply, and Jensen's on the verge of feeling alone for the first time in three years when he feels her push back. She's past talking, but the rush of unrelenting affection is unmistakable and reassuring. No matter what, he'll still have _her_ , and the thought makes Jensen feel a little better.

"Jensen," Jared says, gently, and Jensen flushes and sits up, managing to pull his shirt off. Jared pulls the blankets up, making Jensen suddenly more than a little aware that Jared's naked on the other side of the bed. Jensen's been fumbling with the laces on his breeches for what feels like forever when a hand wraps around his wrist.

"I can get that too," Jared says, sounding amused again, and before Jensen can protest, his hand is right there, undoing the knots. When Jensen shifts, feeling his whole face heat, his hips push up involuntarily. Jared glances up at him for a second then grins, distracting enough that Jensen's not paying attention when Jared presses the heel of his hand up against Jensen's filling erection and rubs.

Jensen's spreading his legs before he can think about why he shouldn't, pressing up into Jared's touch, and he's completely breathless by the time he manages to shove his shoulder up against Jared's chest and push him back.

"That's _cheating_ ," Jensen manages, struggling with the warmth flooding his stomach, pooling in his cock and balls, and he feels more than a little satisfied when he manages to knee Jared, who's laughing, in the side.

"It's us," Jared says, and it takes Jensen a second to remember he's talking about Seraneth and not him. "Consider it a foregone conclusion."

"Bronzes," Jensen teases, mimicking Jared's tone from earlier, and Jared stares for a second before descending into laughter again as Jensen kicks his breeches off.

"It's not our fault you're _difficult_ ," Jared says, shoving back gently, and even if it's clear they're just playing, Jensen can feel Seraneth rising in him as Jared's eyes start to go dark.

Jensen pushes him again, laughing, and Jared grabs Jensen's wrist again and pulls him in, grinning, until Jensen's breathing hard from the proximity. Jared's face is close, nudging his nose up against Jensen's cheek, and even if he's still laughing, it's _distracting_ , making Jensen want more.

"By the way," Jared says, right up against the curve of Jensen's jaw, mouth hot against his skin, "you should know that I want a whole hell of a lot more of you than that."

Jensen kisses him then, can't _help_ kissing him then, and he's so caught up in it that it takes him a moment to realize that the sense that he's falling isn't entirely incorrect.

"Hold her," Jared warns, almost against his mouth, and when Casserath twists on one wing toward the feeding grounds, Jensen's waiting, shoving his will up against hers. He wins, barely, and when she closes her talons around a cow and slices open its jugular, he feels his hands go tight in the sheets with how unsatisfying it is.

"Get her up in the air," Jared murmurs, reassuring against the fact that Jensen's losing himself, "high as she can get before we catch up," and that's easy, because she _wants_ to. Jensen feels the push of wind beneath her wings, the sudden, fierce delight in flying, and he's more than aware of the males behind her. Jensen recognizes Elianth and a couple of other blues from their wing, with three larger browns that she can't identify on sight alone. It seems obvious that she could outlast any of them, obvious that she doesn't _want_ any of them, when Seraneth spreads his wings and glides down underneath her with a slow, spiraling twist. He makes it look effortless, and Jensen's too caught up in Casserath's grudging respect to pay attention to Jared on top of him, or the heated, brutal kisses they're sharing.

Respect doesn't mean she'll let herself be _caught_ , though, and Jensen feels the pride of leaving everyone else behind, of the way she's darting upward. Seraneth's still somewhere behind her, but Jensen feels her lack of concern, the open expanse of sky, and he's falling into her twisting turns around a cloud bank when something's over her, over _them_ , and Jensen feels her panic when she realizes she's caught.

"Gotcha," Jared says, sharp and triumphant, and Jensen feels it as Seraneth holds her fast, tail and neck twining together, until the fear tips over into something else entirely, and Jensen stops breathing. A minute turns into two, Seraneth still pulling her upward with strong thrusts of his wings, and Jensen drags his hands down Jared's back and pulls him down, wanting so much more than body contact.

"He's not," Jensen manages, "I need," and Jared bites down hard on the curve of his shoulder and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking hard.

"He's giving me room," Jared says, leaning in until Jensen can't see anything but his face, and even half out of his mind, Jared is recognizable, someone Jensen _trusts_.

"I can't take my time," Jared says, rubbing up against him, clearly holding himself back, "but I want – if I could, I'd make this –"

Jensen knows what he's trying to say, and later, he'll appreciate it, but Casserath _wants_ and he's losing the ability to think of anything else.

"Get _inside_ us," he manages, pulling Jared into a hard kiss, and Jared makes a strangled, vicious noise against his mouth and pulls a jar off the chest beside his bed.

"I can't fight both of you, so shut up," Jared says. 

Jensen's brain is stuttering between her and himself, miles of blue and need and something else entirely, and when Jared slides two slick fingers inside of him, it doesn't hurt, doesn't feel anything but _not enough_.

"Come on," Jensen says, arching up off the bed and into his weight, "come _on_ , Jared," and Jared bites against his neck, hard enough that Casserath jerks, with a noise that's something like a growl.

Jared stretches him open with three fingers, hard enough and fast enough that Jensen knows it shouldn't feel as good as it does, and he can't keep from crying out. Jared pulls back, hands closing hard on Jensen's hips, and pulls them up.

"Don't try to hang on," Jared says, holding him steady, "because it's going to be too much," and pushes into him.

Jared holds it for a long moment, until Jensen feels everything in his mind turn over, because he's all her, and she's all him. Jensen can't tell the difference between Jared and Seraneth, doesn't _want_ to tell the difference, and it's the best he's ever felt, so intense that he knows that it's pointless to try to separate the sense of connection between all of them. The long, slow thrusts are driving him crazy, something Jensen needs _more_ of. He's pressing closer, finding a rhythm, when his stomach drops and they tumble into freefall. Jensen feels it when Jared starts to come, his whole back arching, but he's not expecting it when Jared slams in one more time, and the sudden rush of sensation is too much. He follows him over, letting go.

The next thought Jensen has is that someone is touching his face. Jensen doesn't bother to open his eyes – just _thinking_ seems like too much effort – but someone's stroking their fingers over his cheekbone, down underneath his jaw, rubbing their thumb against his temple. When it stops for a second, Jensen manages a sleepy noise of protest, leaning back in the right direction, and there's a soft laugh.

"You planning on coming back any time soon?" Jared says, and Jensen opens his eyes, wincing when he tries to move. His whole body feels too sensitive, but there's something good underneath it, and he feels warm all over.

"Sorry," Jared says, his voice rougher, raspier than usual, but still amused, "I probably should have warned you about the whole thirty minute orgasm thing."

"Potentially," Jensen says, and he rolls over to realize Jared's propped up on one elbow, watching him.

Jensen feels himself flush under the scrutiny, suddenly all too aware of what happened, but Jared makes a soft noise and tilts his face up.

"Okay?" he says, and Jensen doesn't lean into the touch, but he manages not to look away, either.

"Is it always like that?" he says, and watches Jared look away for a second, then back, like he's hoping Jensen won't notice.

"Kind of," he says. "Sometimes."

Jensen gets the feeling Jared's not saying everything he wants to, but he's worn out, and something in his head wants to stay close. Casserath is asleep, close enough to Seraneth to feel him breathing, and Jensen's almost positive that it's holdover that's making him want the same thing. 

"Do I," he says, grabbing the blanket, "I – should I go?"

Jared makes a soft noise that Jensen thinks might mean he's too polite to say yes, but he's barely pulled the blankets back when he feels a hand close around his shoulder.

"That was a no," Jared says, pulling Jensen back down, back against him, "and stop letting the heat out."

Jared wraps an arm around him, palming Jensen's hip, breath warm against the back of his neck, and Jensen's not entirely sure, but he knows that arguing would be more than pointless.

"Get some sleep," Jared murmurs, close, and maybe it's the dragons, maybe it's something else entirely, but it's easy to give in.

When Jensen wakes up the next morning, the other half of the bed is still warm, but Jared is gone. Jensen's clothes are folded, sitting on a chair next to the dresser, and there's steam rising from a tub in front of the fireplace. Jensen's debating whether the tub is for him – he's used to bathing in the common baths, since having staff to draw a bath is a privilege reserved for wingleaders – when he realizes the wry amusement inside his head is coming from somewhere else.

_He left you breakfast, too,_ Casserath says. _All gentleman-like._

_Shut up_ , Jensen says, without any real bite behind it; he doesn't have to move far to be aware of the fact that he's sore as hell, and the mirror next to Jared's dresser reveals an impressive number of bite marks between his shoulder and his neck. Jensen's not exactly surprised to find bruises on his hips, either.

_Is he coming back?_ Jensen asks, and there's a longer than usual response time.

_He's running drills with the blues,_ Casserath says, in a tone that usually means she's keeping something from him, and Jensen's stomach sinks. Jared's been nice – kind, even – but Jensen knew better than to think that a mating flight might mean something.

It takes longer than Jensen likes to convince himself to roll out of bed. The water's hot enough that it stings everywhere Jensen's skin is broken, and Jensen scrubs a little viciously at his stomach, the insides of his thighs, trying to ignore his own stupidity. He finally sinks down into the water, ducking underneath to rinse the soap out of his hair. Jensen's allowing exactly thirty seconds of feeling sorry for himself, then moving on. He's had classes, _lectures_ on how it's supposed to be casual. If something's so casual that it doesn't count as cheating when you're married, Jensen's reasonably certain that he's not supposed to get attached because of one night of sex.

Jensen climbs out and gets dressed as quickly as possible, ignoring the tray of food sitting on the bedside table.

_You're going to need a higher collar,_ Casserath observes, sounding amused.

_Fuck_ , Jensen says, and prepares for a very long day.

Jensen's four hour tactical seminar with the first year greens and blues runs over by almost half an hour, and by the time Jensen gets out of class, there's no point in even trying the mess hall. He's so tired he barely manages to get back to his rooms, and Jensen sleeps through most of the afternoon. When he wakes up, it's nearly dinnertime. The last thing Jensen wants is to deal with an entire dining room full of people, but he knows better than to skip three meals in one day. He's starting to consider sneaking into the kitchens for some cheese and fruit when someone knocks on his door.

"Hi," Jared says. He's holding a tray of food, awkwardly, and it takes Jensen a good thirty seconds to realize that Jared's _blushing_ , not overheated.

"Hey," Jensen says, then tugs his collar up self-consciously, trying to ignore the way Jared's staring. 

_He brought you dinner_ , Casserath observes, somewhat unnecessarily. When Jensen realizes that Jared's checking up on him, he can't decide whether to be mortified or relieved; Jared's calm and confident, never anything less than perfectly relaxed, and Jensen's never seen him caught off guard or upset, even in the middle of a thread attack.

Jensen's not sure if he's regretting the decision, worried, or just unsure of what to do – Jensen's never heard any rumors about Jared making a habit of catching first flight dragons – but Jensen's known Jared for three years, and he's reasonably certain that he's not going to leave until he's gotten what he came for.

"I thought –" Jared starts, holding the tray out in front of him, and Jensen pulls the door open further, stepping back.

"Thanks," Jensen says. Jared steps in out of the darkness of the hallway, and Jensen realizes that there's more than enough food for two people on the tray when Jared sets it on his coffee table.

"Kristen said you missed lunch," Jared says, and it takes Jensen a minute to place the look on his face as _concern_.

"I got caught in class," Jensen says, trying not to laugh. "Questions at the end ran over by almost twenty minutes, and the fourth wing is back from South Weyr. I figured there wouldn't be anything left if I went to the mess hall."

Jared looks at him for a long moment, then lifts a hand, like he's planning on touching Jensen's face. Jensen freezes, still holding on to the doorknob, and Jared blinks and lets his hand fall, taking a step back.

"I used to hate teaching first years," Jared says, finally.

"They're… easily distracted," Jensen says, and Jared laughs, looking a little more relaxed.

"I thought you might be hungry," Jared says, shifting, like he thinks Jensen's going to say no, and Jensen turns to shut the door.

"Starving," Jensen agrees, and sits down on the sofa.

Dinner's easy, less awkward than Jensen's expecting, and when Jared tenses up again at the end of the meal, Jensen offers to show him the chess set his parents sent for the holidays. After two games and half a pitcher of wine – Jared's not particularly good at chess, as it turns out, and the alcohol probably isn't helping – Jared starts yawning.

"Did you want –" Jensen says, interrupted by another of Jared's yawns, and Jared laughs.

"Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night," Jared says, standing up, and Jensen's expecting him to open the door, not to sit on the edge of his bed and start unlacing his tunic, pulling back the blankets with his free hand.

"You really can't hold your liquor, can you," Jensen says, ignoring the way his pulse picks up at the sight of Jared in his bed, and Jared looks up, blinking.

"What?" he says.

"We're in my rooms," Jensen reminds him. "Your bed is two flights down."

Jared stares, then abruptly ducks his head, flushing. "Sorry, I –" he manages, and Jensen gets up off his sofa to offer him a hand.

"Maybe I should walk you back," he says. Jared shakes his head.

"It's not that far," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jensen's not sure what to expect when Jared finds him the next day at lunch, but it's significantly less complicated than the night before, and they spend the better part of an hour discussing the expansion of the east wing of the weyr and lesson plans. Things seem normal, at least until three o'clock, when Jensen goes to mount Casserath for a drill. She's not in her weyr – not entirely surprising, given that she's spent the last two days in Seraneth's – but she's not asleep and Jensen's more than a little surprised when she doesn't respond to his request that she fly down.

_Are you sick?_ Jensen says, fighting down concern, and realizes that she's felt off ever since the mating flight. Fighting greens don't typically lay eggs, but it's not entirely unheard of, and Jensen takes the stairs to the bronze weyrs faster than he usually would. If she's not gravid, then something's probably wrong, since Casserath's never refused a request before. Jensen's considering calling for one of the medics when he climbs the last of the way into Seraneth's weyr and finds Seraneth wrapped around her. Seraneth opens one sleepy eye when Jensen steps forward, but it's obvious that Casserath's not trapped, and she shakes her wings out and untangles herself, twining around Jensen.

_Stop worrying_ , Casserath says, butting her head against his stomach while Jensen runs his hands over her snout, feeling guilty. Jensen's seen her since, but he's been busy worrying about Jared and teaching and the twenty-eight exams he's supposed to have graded by Friday, and he realizes suddenly that he's been neglecting the most important thing.

Casserath blows hot air against his face, amused again, and Jensen leans into her; her eyes are clear and her color isn't dull, but it isn't bright enough for her to have eggs, either. _Stop it_ , she says. _You pay plenty of attention to me._

_I should have been up here_ , Jensen murmurs, pressing his face against her warm scales, and with her, there's no point in lying; it's easier to be busy than overwhelmed, and Jensen's not ready to _think_ about any of it.

He's startled to feel a bump against his back, Seraneth's much larger snout pushing him forward, and Jensen tries not to jump. Dragons don't typically touch anyone other than their riders, let alone talk to them, and Jensen suddenly recognizes the vague, investigative presence in the back of his head as Seraneth. He feels a little like Jared.

_Uh, Cass?_ Jensen says, when Seraneth nudges him again.

_Stop worrying_ , she says, again, and Jensen turns around and lets Seraneth press his nose up against Jensen's chest. Jensen slides his hands over Seraneth's face, over the scales above his eyes, and laughs when he makes the same soft, satisfied noise Jensen's used to hearing from Casserath.

_I don't want to do drills_ , Casserath says, finally, when Jensen's rubbing underneath Seraneth's jaw, _and you should stay here for a while._

_Yeah, okay_ , Jensen says, suddenly exhausted, and settles in between her front legs, still stroking Seraneth.

When he wakes up a few hours later, he's warm, in the middle of a tight dragon ball, and Jared's pulling himself up into the weyr.

"You can't just _refuse_ to demonstrate for the browns," Jared says, and Jensen's startled to hear Seraneth growl. Jared's always been the type of rider who talks out loud to his dragon when they're in the same place, something Jensen's always appreciated during battles, but it only takes him a second to realize Jared can't see him. Then it just feels like an invasion of privacy.

"I _have_ my act together, I –" Jared says, shoving his flying glasses back and rubbing a hand over his face. "He's not interested in –"

"Uh, hi," Jensen says, and Jared jumps, then stares for a second at Jensen's position between the dragons.

Jensen climbs to his feet, dusting himself off and trying not to stretch too obviously, and Jared finally steps forward and offers a hand.

"She says she's not sick, but she wouldn't do drills," Jensen says, awkwardly, and looks back over his shoulder, where Seraneth's wrapped around his dragon again. "I don't – do they usually do this?"

"No," Jared says, almost sharply, then rubs a hand over his face again.

"Sorry," he says. "It's been a long day."

"I think the browns can live without you for an afternoon," Jensen says, reaching to squeeze Jared's shoulder, mostly because he looks worn out, pale and almost drawn.

"Probably," Jared says, finally, looking at Jensen's hand on his shoulder until Jensen pulls it back.

"Get some sleep," Jensen says. "And something to eat."

"Thanks," Jared says, finally. By the time Jensen starts to climb down, he's leaning up against Seraneth, talking softly.

Jensen's used to Jared's meal rotation schedule – he tries to eat with every class at least twice a week – so he's not really expecting the knock on his door to be Jared, again, with dinner. Even with the nap, Jensen's tired and still worried about Casserath, and after Jared sneaks a look in his direction for what feels like the twentieth time, Jensen pushes his plate back.

"I'm fine," he says, and Jared looks up, startled.

"What?" he says.

"I'm fine," Jensen says, and it comes out rougher than he means it to. "I'm not traumatized or hurt, you don't have to do this."

"What?" Jared says, again, and Jensen picks up his plate and puts it back on the tray.

"You don't have to keep checking on me," Jensen says, quietly. "I'm fine. It was just sex, Jared."

"I wasn't –" Jared says, then swallows hard. "Right, I'll just –" he gestures at the door, then stands.

"Thanks for dinner," Jensen says, finally, and Jared nods, once, and lets himself out.

There's a long pause, once where Jensen feels abruptly and inexplicably guilty.

_I love you_ , Casserath says, _but sometimes you're an idiot._

_I know_ , Jensen says, finally, and starts to clean up their half-eaten meal.

Over the next two days, Casserath doesn't leave Seraneth's weyr, and Jensen doesn't see Jared. Jensen doesn't want to think it's intentional, but after the third time Jared ducks out of a room when he walks in, Jensen has to admit that he probably was sharper than he meant to be. Jared's a good guy, the kind of guy who looks after people, and it's not Jared's fault he made the mistake of sleeping with someone who has feelings for him. Jensen's almost looking forward to class, just to have an opportunity to apologize, but when Jensen settles down in the front row, Jared turns around from a conversation with another student, goes pale, and ducks out the door. It's fifteen minutes past the starting bell when Misha walks in.

"Rider Padalecki isn't feeling well," he says. "I'll be instructing tonight, if someone would be so kind as to fill me in on what section you're covering?"

Jensen abruptly feels a lot worse.

When he stops by Jared's quarters to apologize, no one answers. Jensen waits for twenty minutes, but Jared doesn't come back, and even the infirmary doesn't yield anything. The next morning at breakfast, the other greens are clustered around a table, and when Jensen walks past them to get a tray, they all stare, whispering.

Luckily, there's no one else in line, so Jensen ignores them, filling a bowl with oatmeal. He's trying to decide between coffee and tea when Kristen bumps his shoulder.

"So Padalecki got in a fist fight with all the browns in second wing last night," she says, sort of conversational, and Jensen pauses with a hand half way to the mugs.

" _Jared_?" he says.

"When bronzes bond, it can lead to testosterone spikes," Kristen says, quietly, like she's saying something obvious. Jensen takes a mug.

"You mean mate," Jensen says, ignoring the way his face heats.

"Bond," Kristen says. "Look over your notes on behavior. They're not monogamous from a strict perspective, but some bronzes show permanent preferences, it's – you know the pair at West? The queen and the bronze?"

"No one else even flies for her," Jensen says, finally.

"You might want to talk to Jared before he gets into any more drunken brawls," Kristen says, dryly. "I'll take that."

Jensen nearly passes over his tray, then thinks better of it, filling another plate with food. It's probably better to go with a peace offering.

Jared doesn't open the door on the first knock, but Jensen isn't in the mood to quit. It's not long before he hears someone cursing their way across the room.

" _What_?" Jared says, yanking the door open, and Jensen shoves a shoulder in the door before Jared can slam it in his face.

"I thought you might be hungry," Jensen says, firmly, and waits while Jared stares.

Jared's room is dim, but he's not wearing a shirt, and it's easy for Jensen to see the bruises along his ribcage and over his stomach. When Jared pulls the door open further, Jensen realizes he has an impressive black eye. He's still scowling, an expression that's not entirely familiar, and he crosses his arms.

"We need to talk," Jensen says. Jared doesn't respond, but when Jensen looks more closely, he realizes that Jared's eyes aren't focused; Jensen pushes past him through the door and waits for him to finish arguing with Seraneth, setting down the tray of food on the table.

"You shouldn't be here," Jared says, finally. He's tense, barely holding himself in place, and he looks miserable. Jensen has to wrap his hands around a cup of coffee to keep from touching him.

"I wanted to apologize," Jensen says, awkwardly; he's never been good at this. "I was rude to you, and I'm sorry."

"I wasn't _checking up on you_ ," Jared bites out, finally.

"I can't do anything about Seraneth," Jensen says. "But I'm not expecting anything, I won't bother you."

"Bother me?" Jared says, but for the first time, he sounds curious instead of angry.

Jensen takes a deep breath and lets it out.

"I _know_ that mating flights don't mean anything," he manages. "I didn't want to ask for more of your time or attention or – I'm not trying to be unprofessional."

Jensen stares firmly at his coffee cup, trying to ignore how warm his face feels and the way that Jared's probably looking at him. He tries not to jump when Jared sits down beside him, warm and too close.

"I wasn't checking on you," Jared repeats. He sounds tired. "You weren't asking too much. I – it's supposed to just be sex, it's always just sex, but I –"

"I never thought about it," he says. "You're smart and a decent guy and I've _always_ liked being around you, but I never thought about it. And I was just – I didn't want it to be a bad experience, I didn't think it would be a big deal, it never –" Jared swallows. "But now I can't _stop_ thinking about it. I showed up because I wanted to see you, I wanted –"

"To see me?" Jensen repeats, looking up, and realizes that Jared's even more flushed than he is.

"You're not the one who's being unprofessional," Jared says, which is when Jensen realizes what Jared's trying to say.

"You _like_ me?" Jensen says, close to incredulous, and Jared looks away, reaching for a mug like he needs something to do with his hands.

"Yeah," Jared says, softly.

For a long moment, Jensen isn't sure, but when Jared rubs a hand over his face and starts to stand, it suddenly seems obvious.

"Sorry," Jared says, "I'll –" and Jensen leans in and kisses him. He feels Jared startle, jerking back, but Jensen wraps a hand around his wrist and pulls him back down, easing him into a longer, deeper kiss.

"Shh," Jensen says, against his mouth, and Jared finally gives in and kisses back, leaning into the hand Jensen has pressed against his face.

"I –" Jared says, finally, pulling back. Jensen follows, kissing him again, and when he finally stops to breathe, Jared's eyes don't leave his face.

"I've liked you for a while," Jensen admits, and Jared finally smiles.

"I should have, uh –" he says. "Talked to you. I can be a little –"

_Stubborn_ , Seraneth says, and Jensen laughs.

"Bronzes," he says, finally, affectionately, "you're all the same," and leans in to kiss Jared, again.


End file.
